


A Quiet Morning In

by theteaotter



Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF, Madeon | Hugo Leclercq/Porter Robinson - Fandom
Genre: Cuddles, Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 09:32:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10828536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theteaotter/pseuds/theteaotter
Summary: “A quiet morning in where Hugo and Porter are both exhausted from a show and they just decide to stay in bed for the day and are hazy and half asleep most of the time but they wrap themselves up together and cuddle and give soft lazy kisses and barely watch the movie they’ve turned on until eventually one of them falls asleep and the other just kinda watches with soft adoration before also falling asleep.” -hleclercq





	A Quiet Morning In

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the prompt!! <3

Hugo’s body wakes him up before he really wants to. He’s exhausted from the show last night, but his bladder is killing him. There is a familiar weight spread across him.

Hugo slides out from under Porter’s arm and out of the warm cocoon he’s made for them.

“Muh, where’re you goin’? Porter mumbles, his eyes half closed.

“Bathroom,” Hugo whispers back, kissing his forehead. Porter settles back into Hugo’s fluffy white blankets.

They are in Nantes, and it’s like a dream for Hugo. The tour happen to take them right through France, and now he has Porter all wrapped up on a Sunday morning. He is surrounded by Porter’s smell on his white linens, his old posters flickering in the breeze. He can hear distant boat whistles on the Loire.

He pads off to the bathroom and back again, sighing as he slips back in between his sheets.  
Porter is an inch or two shorter than him, but takes up almost his whole bed. He rolls half onto Hugo, capturing him with his arm and leg. Porter presses his nose into the crook of Hugo's neck.

The trees outside dapple Hugo’s blankets, and drift lazily across Porter’s lips and eyelashes. His dark brow is relaxed in sleep. The little freckles around his eyes stand out against the dark circles underneath them.

They’ve been working so hard for this thing that they both love. This testament of their love.

Hugo brushes his finger across one of Porter’s freckles and his eyelashes twitch against his cheek, before pressing down. 

Porter squints against the light shining in his eyes.

“Morning,” he says and wraps his arms and legs around Hugo tighter. His breath is warm and damp against Hugo’s neck.

“Morning,” Hugo answers and catches his lips softly with his own.

The birds are starting to chirp outside, and he can hear his mother making breakfast downstairs.

Hugo rubs small circles into Porter’s back and kisses the freckles spread across his shoulders. It’s like a galaxy in negative. 

“A celestial body,” Hugo murmurs against Porter’s skin. He can feel Porter’s smile against his neck. 

Porter lifts himself up a little to peer down at him. His eyes crinkle at the corners His hair is wild and everywhere and is so much like him. Hugo runs his hands through it and cradles Porter’s cheek in the palm of his hand.

“I love you,” Porter says quietly and kisses Hugo’s hand.

“Well, I love _you_ ,” Hugo says and lunges at Porter with both hands aimed at his underarms.

“Hugo! No!” Porter yells as Hugo tickles him.

They wrestle in bed, laughing and yelling, pushing the pillows off and twisting the blankets up.

Finally, Porter pins Hugo’s hands down to the bed. Porter always wins, Hugo thinks. Maybe he let him win a little. Maybe.

Porter leans in and kisses Hugo’s lips. They’re so soft and red from laughing. Like the strawberries from his garden. 

The smell of breakfast drifts into Hugo’s room, and Porters stomach growls loudly. 

Hugo laughs. “Are you hungry?”

Porter has the decency to blush, before turning on the puppy dog eyes.

“Feed me pleeease.” 

“Do you want to come down, or should I bring it up here?”

“I don’t want to leave your bed ever again so,”

“Up here,” Hugo finishes and wiggles out from under Porter. 

Porter twirls himself back up in the blankets and tucks himself back in. He looks like a cat in a sunspot. 

Hugo tries to hold back a smile as he goes to retrieve their breakfast. 

Empty plates beside the bed and full bellies accompany them as they turn on a movie. 

“What do you want to watch?” Hugo asks.

“I dunno, anything, I just want to cuddle.” 

Hugo is propped up against the headboard, with Porter pillowed against his chest. Hugo doesn’t know how he seems to be everywhere at once, splaying his legs under the sheets, but he also finds Porter’s presence intoxicating. He certainly doesn’t mind being consumed by Porter.

Just to be a brat, Hugo turns on an old black and white french drama. He knows it’s going to put Porter back to sleep, and that’s his goal.

Porter moans in mock annoyance and presses himself closer to Hugo’s chest. 

“Go back to sleep, you need it.”

“You too,” Porter says.

“Me too, I’ll fall asleep soon.”

Porter gives one more stretch, kisses Hugo’s collarbone with plush lips, and settles back in.

Hugo mutes the tv and drifts his eyes over his lover. The dapples have moved through his window and wash over Porter’s back. He is truly beautiful both awake and asleep, but like this Hugo can savor him. 

Long lean lines, with a broad freckled back; dusted heavier near his hair which curls this way and that.

Hugo remembered how they both grew their hair out around the same time. It’s a cute thought that makes him smile shyly despite Porter’s slow, even breathing. 

His lips are soft and full, something he thinks most people notice right away. They have a little bit of sugar tucked in corners from breakfast that Hugo thumbs away. 

His hands and feet are long with squared fingers just like the rest of him. Fingers which played the piano together with him, intertwined with his own, fluttered down his spine. 

He gazes down at his lover, and wonders how he learned to love this much.. Porter is not perfect by any means, but he is perfect for Hugo. 

This moment won’t last and he knows that. Tomorrow is another day on the road, and he doesn’t want to think about the end of the tour. Not when Porter is holding onto his chest so tightly. Not when his smell is clinging to his pillows and blankets.

All he has is this moment of quiet, the warmth of his lover, and the swaying leaves outside.

He rests his chin on Porter’s head and drifts off to sleep.


End file.
